


Ain't No Rest for the Wicked: GTA V

by Whatadream24



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Kissing, Choking, Dominance, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fetish, Jealousy, M/M, Male Slash, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Romantic Friendship, Steve is a hot asshole, Submissive Michael, Three shot story, Violence, consensual sex kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatadream24/pseuds/Whatadream24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment Michael laid his eyes on that blond FIB agent, he knew he was an arrogant piece of shit. One night with that asshole leads to some pretty heavy shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after torturing Mr. K; I hope I kept Steve Haines in character. By the way, I know Haines is supposed to be spelled Haynes, but I had a lot of Haines to go and fix, that would take all night.

It was over and Steve got exactly what he wanted. The darkness of the night creeped up on Los Santos in a blink of an eye and that asshole found himself driving with no destination in mind, with his cell phone pressed to one side of his face. He can't blame Michael for not wanting to answer but Steve Haines had the power to take him and his entire family down; he and Devin Weston can put Michael six feet under for real.

It took only a second call for the married bastard to pick up. Steve stopped when the light flashed to red and with one hand, he gripped tightly to the wheel. Mr. De Santa had a gift and he surely knew how the criminal life worked. As that violent voice of Michael's broke through the soft beat of the song playing on the radio, Steve took a sharp turn to the right and let out a low chuckle. 

"Hey, mind lowering the tone a little?" Steve growled and the voice on the other end of the phone surprisingly obeyed. Michael De Santa didn't like one fucking thing about that big-headed asshole but he was smart enough to listen.

 

"What do you want?" Michael asked abruptly and Steve can tell by his tone that Michael was annoyed. Steve swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and his hand fled to the bottom of the wheel to take another sharp turn. He managed to make it but he pissed off a few drivers in the process. "What I want is a little bit of your time, we need to get a few things out of the way," the blue eyed egotistical man answered Michael unamused, turning into a gas station to fill up. Eyes scanning the area up ahead, Steve let out a mumbled 'fuck' and lightly knocked his fist into his wheel. "Don't these people know who I am?" he heard himself mutter under his breath and Michael sighed into the phone. 

 

The blond man stepped out of his vehicle, anger displayed clearly across his face, with his cell phone still plastered to the side of his face. "I'll be at the Tipsy bar, you should know where that is, so be there in fifteen minutes," Steve informed the man on the other end, his tone definitely meaning the words that left his lips and just like that, he hung up and began to gas up. Steve stood there, one hand around the gas pump, and the other over his hip, staring at all the nightlife and getting pissed about it. He truly wanted everyone to treat him like he was the king of fucking Los Santos. 

With a sigh, he looked down at his watch and then at the cars that drove by. 

 

.

 

Steve arrived at the bar, cars everywhere, and people chit chattering all over. He parked right up behind Michael's black tailgater and cut the engine. Smart man. Looking to his right, out the passenger window, Steve saw Mr. De Santa near the building with a cigarette hanging off his lip. With a suit and a vehicle like that, Michael surely had to be a ladie's man. Steve himself had a few women in his life but ever since taking his position in the FIB, he only needed the one-night stands. After exiting his silver piece of shit compared to Michael's tailgater, Steve would never admit, he walked up to Michael with a kind of swag that made him look like the douchebag that he was. 

 

"Right on time, I like that, so let's get started," Steve made dangerous eye contact with the shorter man, standing straight, making sure to keep his dominance, with a voice that screamed 'I'm a fucking asshole, so fucking love me!' Michael could already feel the tension that he knew was bound to rear it's ugly head but he did his best to keep it at just 'tension'. Anything more than that was extremely dangerous!

 

Michael just met the guy several hours ago and he already wanted him dead. Steve probably assumed he had Michael and Trevor under his control, like a puppet on a string but Michael knew better. He was a man that defended himself at any cost and no other man was going to have him under his control.

Michael entered the bar behind Steve. The offending smell of alcohol, body odor and even the surprising scent of women knocked the both of them square between the eyes. It wasn't the best bar but it had to do. Michael wasn't going to complain, as long as he got some alcohol in him. It was pretty small but it offered just enough room and they strutted their way over to the bar and claimed their stools. In a messed up kind of way, Michael and Steve were the same. 

Both men had an arrogant side, a kind of strut whenever they were in the public eye and an attitude that meant fucking business. Both wanted to be the center of attention but in their own personal way. Steve Haines was fucking obvious being an attention whore while Michael fooled everyone with a well-played act, charming and humorous.

"I didn't call you hear to waste my time, so let's get on with this," Steve began, letting out a sigh, hands resting on top of the counter before him. The man behind the bar strolled up and offered the men a drink. "Two whiskeys," Steve called out just before Michael opened his lips to say a word. He looked in the direction of the blond fool and eyed him up and down. 

No sign of a gun. "I need you to do something for me Mr. De Santa," Haines's sharp voice broke through Michael's silence and it grabbed his attention. Their eyes met and Steve tightened his brows. Michael took a long drink off his glass of whiskey and hoped that in a few minutes or so, he would be plastered. Was Michael his unpaid assassin all of a sudden and what about Trevor? Why the hell wasn't he here?

 

Steve pulled out a few pictures from the back of his pants pocket and placed them onto the counter. Shit! Did Michael now have to kill Lazlo out of all fucking people? What the fuck did he do to disturb this fucking psycho?

Michael bit lightly into his bottom lip and stared at the pictures. That man was a weirdo and a fucking dumbass, but he didn't need to be put down, at least not yet; he hasn't messed with Tracy since the last time they bumped into each other. The pictures clearly showed Lazlo being inappropriate with a few women from his show but this seemed kind of personal for Steve if Michael was thinking clearly.

Michael was a bit confused and he took another sip from his glass. "What's going on with this fucker?" the older man asked, tapping a finger against the few pictures, an obviously puzzled and suspicious expression spread across his face.

Steve took a drink from his whiskey and looked down at the pictures. "My show, he won't stay the fuck away during my shoots, do you ever watch the news, Mr. De Santa, he's spreading shitty rumors about me so don't you understand how badly that's going to kill my reputation!" Steve turned his body toward Michael, slamming a fist on top of the counter, spitting as he fired words like bullets. The bartender took notice of the two men but decided not to get in between until a real fight ensued. 

 

Michael understood the reason for him being here. Steve Haines wanted Michael to kill a man just to kill him. If Steve wanted Lazlo dead, then he was going to have to do it himself, he wasn't that kind of man, or at least he tried not to be.

Downing the last of his whiskey, Michael slammed the glass down and stood up, ready to leave this bastard. Steve eyed his watch and put the pictures away. The bar wasn't busy tonight, no suspicious eyes on them, but Steve was really idiotic for coming to a bar to talk about this shit. For all they knew, the man behind the counter could be a secret spy or some shit.

 

"Hey, where the hell are you going?" Steve spun around, raising his voice a little bit, raising his arms. Michael turned around and put his arms out, setting both of his hands on top of the counter, right beside Steve. "I am not killing someone just to save your fucking reputation, so if you want it done, do it yourself," Michael told him exactly how he felt, nothing but pure honesty spilling from his lips. Steve could only smirk. 

 

.

 

A couple more whiskey shots later, and the both of them were beyond tipsy. What time was it? For some reason, Michael couldn't even recall how this even happened in the first place, usually he'd remember how his drunken fumbles happened; he'd only assumed he would haul ass out of here after he told Steve off. Hell no! Nothing ever turns out right for Michael. 

Steve wasn't as wasted as Michael, but he was very close. The two were forced to leave the bar and they wobbled their way towards their cars. The last thing that Michael can remember seeing was Steve stumble into his car. Now, he was in the back seat of his tailgater with a warm, very wet pair of lips sloppily gliding across his neck. Thinking it was all a dream, Michael shoves both of his tingling hands into the face of the body above him but that doesn't stop the wet kisses.

 

His head was spinning, has been spinning for hours it seemed and his body felt almost numb but he could feel the light brushes of finger tips making their way up and underneath his white dress shirt. The nasty scent of booze was strong and he quickly moved his head to the side, taking in a hot leather smell. 

Michael was hot and he felt sticky underneath his clothes. The body above him was heavy, so fucking heavy it was almost a struggle to breathe. Those hot hands traveled further up his stomach, squeezing in tender spots and tracing crooked shapes carefully against his skin. The burning sensation made Michael whimper and suddenly, his own mouth was over-powered by another pair that were more rough and dry than his own.

It felt like reality but part of him told him it was all a dream; reality though told him to keep his eyes shut but the dream screamed at him, and demanded he open his eyes. He fought against the weight above him and heard familiar grunts fill his ears. His eyes flew open but his vision was cloudy and everything around him was twirling. Those hands of his raised forward and finger tips touched warm skin with slight stubble. Michael continued to trace the skin beneath his fingers and eventually it all came to him in one wave.

 

Strong jawbone, stubble and wet lips. FUCK!! Michael was fighting now! "What the fuck!" the body above him spit a wild curse and fell backward and hit what sounded like the back door hard while Michael felt around his aching body, recognizing the tightness of his leather seats in his tailgater underneath his sweaty palms. 

 

A warm breeze crept passed his nose and he took it in like a line of cocaine. It smelled strong, like a type of cologne mixed with sweat. Vision ultimately coming back to him, Michael leaned up onto the points of his elbows and recognized the face before him. It was that fucking asshole Steve Haines. What. The. FUCK!! Michael's been drunk many, many times before in his life, but not once has he ended up in a situation like this one. His mind was still bobbled and wasted as well as his body that began to betray him but when he took in that hard, serious look pasted across Steve's face, his hands instantly clung to the man's thick biceps and mouths collided.

 

The younger man against the door moaned into the kiss and it was swallowed by Michael, feeling it vibrate deep down into his own throat. That was the most strangest feeling but Michael wasn't complaining much. He was close to someone, someone warm, who smelled good but tasted awful. Steve growled and grabbed Michael's hands, shoving him backward in the dark tight space.

 

The ex-bank robber fell against the seats again, back of his skull knocking loudly against the door. He let out a soft cry but afterwards, with one hand aiding the back of his head, Michael saw the other man come at him, nudging his thick waist between Michael's knees, the small space of the vehicle causing their positions to become awkward. Steve's breath was hot and nasty against Michael's face, with fiery hands that burned with each and every touch and squeeze. This felt totally right at the moment, but in the morning, if they remember anything at all, shits going to hit the fan.

 

Michael felt a line of saliva pass his lips and drip from his face, onto the seat. He smiled and Steve let out a plastered kind of laugh. "I-I think I'm...I'm going to fuckin'..." Steve breathed lightly, weakly reached behind him for the handle and pushed it open, but he tumbled backwards as the door swung open and landed onto his back with his feet still inside the car. 

 

Michael was struggling again to lean up, arms shaking as he held himself up and elbows digging into the leather seats while trying to keep his fading focus on the man outside. He could vaguely hear the vomiting sounds outside of the tailgater and his senses had picked up on the many smells that slowly mingled into one, causing his stomach to twist violently. Now it was definitely his turn to get out of the car before heaving up all over the place. He opened up his door and tried so hard to keep his balance, arms out-stretched before him in a weak attempt to reach for anything solid to hold himself against.

 

The outside lights were bright, bright enough to simply blind someone. Gasps and several other sounds made Michael's gut turn even more. "Shit," Michael let a sloppy curse pass his lips and fell flush against the car, with his hands pressing softly into his belly. Pedestrians were very much aware of the two inebriated men stumbling out from the back of the black tailgater. Steve Haines was the one who everyone was going to recognize, but after vomiting a few more times, he got up off the road and crawled back into the car. He had one hand over his forehead and the other wiping his mouth. "Fuck, FUCK!!" he cursed out loud, leaning back heavy into the leather seats, and dropping his head back. 

 

Whiskey and the food he remembered eating just hours ago had flavored his tongue. He kept his eyes closed and swallowed the nasty residue left in the back of his throat. His throat was tender and raw with each swallow. To his right, Steve can hear Michael heaving. God, throwing up was the second worst thing the human body can do.

 

The young FIB's mind was slowly but surely coming back to him. He noticed Michael when the car jolted and he saw him sit right beside him, sinking into the seats, listening to them squeak with every little movement. "Fuck, I can't think straight with this damn headache," Steve announced with a tone loud enough for the both of them to hear. Michael nodded his head and reached over for the door. The car rocked once the door was closed and seconds later, Steve reached for his and closed it with a grunt.

His head was burning and his mouth tasted like shit. He didn't notice yet, but some bile was left on his nice deep blue polo. Michael continued to stay silent, leaning his head against the door, with his two hands sweaty across his lap.

 

"I think...I think we kissed," Steve admitted, voice low, with a hint of confusion and he turned to look in the direction of the man in black. Michael furrowed his brows and closed his eyes, giving his wrist a flick. "Don't fuckin' care," he hissed quietly, pressing his weight against the door, trying to find a comfortable position for a sleep he didn't know he was slipping into. The pain in his stomach faded and his body felt entirely weightless. 

 

Steve tightened his jaw and exited the car as coordinated as possible, making his way into the driver's seat. Eyes on him all over the damn place but he wasn't going to let that bother him. Half his mind was there and the other half gone for now. He swallowed again and flinched at the pain traveling down his throat, hands gripping the wheel, searching for the keys. "Fuck," he spat and looked over his seat back at Michael who was pressed against the door, cheek smashed into the window, while snoring like some kind of animal. 

 

Steve ran a sweaty hand over his face and decided to return to the back of the tailgater. Steve knew he was thinking something, but it wasn't quite clear to him what it was. He made his way back outside of the car and mumbled something under his hot breath, sluggishly reaching for the back door handle. Right at the moment, the asshole's mind was set on something far more serious than the looks on the passerbyes' faces as they walked by. 

 

He was too caught up in something he didn't fully understand and eased his way into the back seat of the vehicle. Michael was still snoring, face pressed into the glass of the window but as soon as Steve made his way inside and closed the door, the opposite man slightly jumped and turned to look in the direction of that sound. 

The only source of light was from the street lamps right outside the car, shining dimly through the windows. Steve put one hand to his temple and pushed lightly. He suddenly realized he wasn't as tipsy as he was moments ago but he sure was out of his fucking mind when he just sat there, with a warm hand of his own pushing into the bulge in the front of his cargo dress pants. The feeling was good and it can only get better with some more palming.

 

It's actually been a while since he's fucked a beautiful woman and that can only explain why he was whimpering like a child, rubbing his hand eagerly against himself. "Wh-what, what are you doin'?" Michael's words came to Steve like a bolt of lightning, causing his entire body to burn ten times hotter than it already was.

The thought of being called a masturbating freak made him cringe but yet, being caught by Michael's jade eyes, Steve only felt his erection grow bigger, straining painfully against the front of his dress pants. That confused tone of Mr. De Santa's made Steve swallow the hard lump in his throat and he let out a long, hot sigh. 

The rank smell of booze, bile and fading cologne was still lingering high in the air. Michael's Tailgater was not a roomy vehicle at all and it only made the random smells get worse but in the weirdest of ways, it was only exciting the FIB agent more. Steve totally blew off Michael's question and turned to look in his direction, returning his hand to the front of his pants. With a light squeeze, to add more pressure, Steve lightly bit his bottom lip to hide a groan that was soon swallowed hard like a nickle. Haines needed this, hell, he wanted this so damn badly. 

 

Letting his head fall back into the seat, Steve ran a hand over top of his golden hair and palmed himself hard and rough. Michael wasn't yet fully aware, but he was conscious enough to realize what the man beside him was doing, or at least trying so hard to do. He eyed the bastard and watched him try to pleasure himself. 

Maybe Michael shouldn't be watching, but it was happening in the back seat of his black Tailgater and the last person he ever wanted to see trying to jerk himself off. Instead of trying to fight with his drunk half, Michael sat up and leaned back heavy into the leather seats. Steve saw his eyes from the corner of his own but it didn't really seem to stop his hand from massaging.

"You're doin' it wrong," Michael admitted, giving his eyes to Steve, who stopped momentarily to look right back, brows furrowing. Steve swallowed loud and Michael can tell by the expression across that man's face that he was trying to be angry, as if what Michael had said offended him. Guess it would offend somebody. "What the hell are you talking about, De Santa?" with every word and ever little facial movement, Steve could feel that same throbbing pain in the middle of his skull. He was surprised and confused both at the moment, almost disgusted at what Michael's words made the boy between Steve's thighs do.

 

Michael moved around against the squeaking seat and in seconds, his body was turned to Steve, who was busy digging his fingers into his own toned thighs, tense as hell. The older man let out an alcohol-smelling chuckle and his own fingers fled to the waistband of his dark dress pants. Steve's eyes managed to stay locked onto the opposite man as he pulled his white undershirt out from his pants and began to unbuckle the belt, fingers suddenly careful when they reached the button and fly. 

 

"Mr. De Santa, what the hell do you think you are doing?" those blue eyes of his were curious, voice nervously rough; he sat there, simply just watching Michael unfasten the front of his expensive dress pants, his own hands hot and shaking.

 

He can't be getting excited by this, can he? His throat went desert dry and his constant swallowing made Michael produce a crooked grin that was revealed to Steve in the dim light. The ex-bank robber had the looks and those wrinkles of his only seemed to make those suave expressions of his stand out more. Steve Haines felt a slight prick of jealousy towards Michael but it wasn't enough to make him think anything different of himself. Michael's head was swimming a little bit still and so was Steve's but they should be sober enough to realize what they were doing. Michael's eyes looked down at himself but he quickly returned his stare to Steve and smiled. He didn't answer the FIB agent right away; instead he slowly pulled his zipper down and Steve can already see the color of the older man's underwear peek over the waistband of his pants.

 

Steven let out a faint groan and brought one hand forward to wipe his own face again. He was sweating and it was gross. Words were useless at the moment. Michael twisted his hips and wiggled his ass carefully out of his black pants and as soon as he did, the younger asshole right beside him was pushing the heel of his hand against his bulge. Why the hell was he feeling so fucked up right now? Steve was perfectly fine just getting himself off, not a mutual jack off session with a man he didn't even see as an acquaintance. Michael struggled a little bit to position himself against the seat, spreading his knees, trying to give himself some room. Steve was disgusted with Michael, but mostly with himself. He understood a man's need to get off, but not in front of another man.

 

Michael gives Steve his attention and snickers. "That nervous look on your face tells me you've never done this with anyone before," Michael said confidently, resting one hand over top of his suddenly hard dick, staring at the opposite man like this was nothing. Steve's brows twitched and his lips pursed. 

"Screw you Michael!" Steve growled and the look smeared across his face was priceless; he was definitely a hardass, repressed kind of man, kind of like Michael, but neither one of them were going to admit that any time soon. Michael raised a dark brow and licked his lips, tasting some leftover whiskey and vomit as he did so. His eyes found the bulge beneath Steve's hand and Michael let out another quiet laugh. 

"You don't need to get so damn defensive," Michael's choice of words stung the FIB agent hard but he managed to brush it off and rub against himself. The friction and constriction his pants were causing was almost enough to send him over the edge but he was in the same vehicle with a man that can probably hold on for nearly an hour. "I'm not getting defensive Michael, I just want you to shut that loud mouth of yours!" Steve was pissed; the fiery look in his eyes reminded Michael of Trevor but less animalistic. The younger man had a hand wrapped around Michael's throat, ready to squeeze the life out of him. 

Maybe he was more jealous than his stupid arrogant ass thought. He felt Michael's adam's apple get caught in the middle of a swallow and his pulse was beating strangely into the palm of Steve's hand. Michael's hand remained between his thighs, so did Steve's free hand.

Michael blinked his eyes a few times, seeing Steve's hard face every time they opened. The fingers around his throat were rough but not strangling. "Do what you want," Michael admitted in a whisper, with a little hint of seduction falling from his lips. Steve narrowed his eyes and his grip around Michael's throat became tight. The older man let his eyes fall closed and Steve watched his hands slip over into the other seat, residing carefully onto Steve's thigh.

 

Steven enjoyed watching Mr. De Santa's guard fall down. He was the one that drank the most; Steve himself stopped at five. "I always do what I want Mr. De Santa, I don't need you to tell me that," his voice was serious and low and his fingers around Michael's throat tightened even more. Without being fully aware of it, Steve was thigh to thigh with the opposite man. He was aware though of what he was getting himself into, but Michael was still drunk enough to not remember half of it in the morning. Steve also knew that this wasn't much of a secluded place, being in the middle of Los Santos, especially by several bars.

 

Steve just let out a hot sigh and got on with it. His heart was pounding and his blood was boiling; it has been since his lips first met Michael's. He knew he was far from being a homosexual but these feelings were fucking confusing. Looking at the leftover space between the both of them, Steve swallowed thickly and touched Michael's hand, grabbing it. He noticed the jade eyes on him but he continued to follow through with it. 

He felt his lips twitch and his head spin when he lightly pressed Michael's hand over top of his own aching erection. Michael could breathe and swallow again, but Steve's hand was still strong around his throat. 

Haines was slightly confused and stuck at this point, but Michael offered to help. The older man dug his fingers into the rough material of Steve's pants and slowly glided the palm of his hand up the length. Steve's breath instantly hitched and his thighs underneath Michael's free hand tightened.

 

"No reason to be so tense," Michael assured Steve with slurred words and a little smile, his fingers digging deeper. The younger man removed his own hand from Michael's and tensed up, staring blankly into the dark interior. His hands gripped the seat tight and he felt his jaw ache from all the constant tightening. Steve was nervous and it was obvious in the way he was reacting to Michael's hand.

"This-this is so fucking wrong," Steve managed to say; those words were true, definitely true, but Michael wasn't stopping and Steve's mind and body were becoming a hot mess and he hoped Michael would just touch his dick the right fucking way because all of the teasing and rubbing was causing him great pain and frustration. Michael snickered and it made Steve look in his direction. Steve took a little glimpse down at Michael's waist, and between his thighs. Mr. De Santa was enjoying this. The sight of Michael's dick trapped behind those cotton boxer shorts made Steve swallow yet again and his own dick jerk.

 

Steve could see Michael's face; he would be lying if he said Mr. De Santa was a hideous man. Thinking he was only made the FIB prick feel better about himself and that was all that mattered. Steve watched Michael's lips part and listened to the words that spilled out. "I'll keep doin' this if you help me out a little," the other man's suggestion was wild and it made Steve breathe hard, but he was feeling way too good right now to turn him down. Steve had to remember that Michael was still slurring his words and his movements were kind of sloppy. Reminding himself of that gave him a sense of relief.

 

Steve's eyes fell down to Michael's straining erection and one of his hands came to the rescue, palm hot against him. Michael let out a soft whimper and Steve brushed his hand up the length and back down, feeling the same pleasure he was giving. He did his best to keep his groans to himself, sucking in his bottom lip, but seeing that Michael was spitting them out like no one's business, Steve decided it was alright to do it himself.

The small, closed-in space around them began to get hotter by the minute. Steve was ready to strip. Michael let out a breathless mumble and fell back into the seat, spreading his knees further apart, using his own hand to free himself from the hot confines of his boxers. Steve drew a little bit closer and watched that perfect dick of De Santa's spring free and fall against his lower abdomen. Seeing it made Steve slightly self-conscious but that deviant side of him enjoyed the view. He took in a deep breath and got close enough to where he could reach Michael's neck again and lightly squeeze. 

 

If he was going to do anything sexual with this man, he was going to do it his way. Michael's breathing was soft and his eyes went closed. Steve assumed that when Michael closed his eyes that he was trying to enjoy all of the sensations but that wasn't it, so Steve let go of his neck.

Michael was half asleep; fuck! Steve let out a hard sigh and found himself struggling to unbuckle his pants and pull his own dick out. He raised his ass a little off the seat to pull his pants down, and reached into the front of his boxers to pull the boy out. He got himself into a ready position, long legs spread comfortably but just before he could even start, Michael let out a sloppy laugh and rolled his head, looking over at Steve with one eye closed. 

"You stopped?" his voice was raised a little higher than usual and that could be from all the booze, but Steve's heart hammered and he gritted his teeth. What the fuck was going on with Michael? First he's throwing up, half-asleep, face pressed into the window, talking it up like a teenage girl, half-asleep again and now talking again like a fucking girl. Alcohol must really hate Michael. Steve got close again, his face displaying a load of frustration and anger, with one hand around Michael's throat and the other against his dick. Michael let out a groan, brows tight and head against the seat. Steve was being rough, almost too rough for Michael's liking.

 

Steve got close enough to breathe in Michael's scent. The younger man was currently on his hands and knees, kind of cramped in the back seat of a car, but it was good enough. "I bet I can get you off within five minutes, old fucker," Haines tone was dangerously low and that smirk across his lips was suddenly met with the moist flesh of Michael's neck. 

Steve knew what he did but he had no idea why he did it. The man beneath him shivered but his reactions were not fast enough. "Don't!" slipped from his dry lips and a hand of his was pressed into Steve's chest but the man didn't budge. Michael's dick was still laying fully hard against his own stomach and Steve's abusive hand made the older man jerk and whimper like a girl. The young FIB agent loved being dominant in any situation and he wasn't going to give that up to some half-drunk man.

 

Steve's thoughts went back to earlier in the day; Mr. K in tears, hot blood dripping down his jaw, eyes black and blue, oh he was getting high from just the thought of the scene. Now he had all the control in the damn world. Steve still had Michael's dick in one hand and his throat in the other, and while trying to multi-task, Steve suddenly gasped when he felt a warm hand reach inside his boxers and completely grab his balls. Now that was a slick move. 

 

Michael wasn't going to let go. His fingers massaged and squeezed, causing the man above him to moan like a bitch and curse like a sailor but that only made Steve react and his hand around Michael's throat tightened and so did the fingers around his dick. Michael spit a nervous chuckle, feeling the delicate damp skin beneath his fingertips. "Give me your worst," the older man said loud and Steve growled something awful. These leather seats were going to be torn and ripped apart before the nights over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Just to get this out of the way, the heavy sexual themes in this chapter isn't meant to scare anyone away. I felt a bit nervous to even post it because of all the dirtiness and because I feel like Steve Haines is kind of OOC but I did my best! I hope you enjoy it anyway :P

Michael's hand was ripped free from the insides of Steve's boxers and slammed against the window. The half inebriated man groaned at the rough contact and used his free hand to try and pry the man's hand from his windpipe. The sweat on his hand and the left over strength he had didn't work well together. Steve let a growl slip pass his lips and used his opposite hand to push Michael backward into the seat. A sloppy groan dripped from Michael's mouth and he looked up into the eyes of the man above him, fingers trying hard to release the grip around his throat. 

 

“Let...let go!” Michael spoke softly, his voice suddenly gravelly, and he could feel and smell the sweat of the dominant man. Steve's hands were clammy and his wicked thoughts suddenly overpowered his being and he pressed both of his thumbs lightly into the center of Michael's throat with a startling grin, causing the other man to jerk at the surprising pressure. His heart was racing and the air flow to his lungs was getting cut shorter after every inhale.

 

That was just enough to shake off the last of Michael's drunkenness. Now the smell of alcohol, sweat, fading cigarette smoke was all that he could recognize and it was utterly disgusting. “Get the fuck off of me!” the older man grumbled low and used both of his weak hands to shove the other man in the chest. Steve Haines unfortunately had all of the control. Michael's half hard cock was still hanging out of his boxer shorts, warm against his lower abdomen and so was Steve's. 

 

Michael swallowed or at least attempted and failed. His Adam’s apple was currently being crushed beneath two rough thumbs and he could only spit, curse and childishly kick. The street lights began to dim even more and eventually the entire interior of the tailgater was dangerously black. “I'll make you explode, you old fuck,” Steve began, the tone in his voice low and dangerous, with a violent push on Michael's Adam’s apple. “You're definitely enjoying this, you fucked the hell out of my fist...” he cut himself off suddenly, leaning forward until he could feel the warmth of Michael's breath against his face. “...and I have the power to fucking kill you whenever I please, so don't say another damn word!” the FIB agent hissed awfully through clenched teeth, tightening his fingers even more around the throat of the man beneath him.

 

Michael flared his nostrils at the scent of that man's breath and was now clawing desperately at the grip around his throat. There was going to be a lot of damn bruising after this was over. With a buck of his hips, Steve groaned and removed his left hand. Michael was relieved but the pain and the struggle to breathe was still there. 

He gave up on the worthless kicking, the weight of Steve crushing him and just lay there with a throbbing pain in the middle of his skull. Michael knew giving up was the last thing he'd ever do but he was the weaker one in this position. Nothing but the sudden faint mumbles and groans of Haines was all he could hear and the vehicle began to gently rock. The movement above him told him something awful was happening and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. 

 

The FIB asshole did have all the control but Michael still had a mouth and he was pretty good at using it when it came to sarcasm and profanity. “I-I can...can take your a-ass down,” with every stutter and skip, Michael felt a sudden wave of pain wash over his head and body. He knew what he said and it was true. If Michael had the balls to tell anyone about what this fucker was doing, Steve was going to be nothing more than a pretty faced loser stuck behind bars. Only a small part of Michael's mind could recall what happened just moments ago but right now was just enough to get his ass thrown in prison. 

Steve let go of his own cock and returned to Michael's throat and all that Michael could do was jolt at the constriction again. He batted his eyes a few times and looked out in front of him which he assumed was where that cock sucker's face was, using his own hands to reach and find Steve's neck. 

 

“Don't talk to me that way!” Steve hissed and out of the darkness, a hard fist knocked Michael in the sensitive side of his head and slightly dazed him. He lay there across the leather seats, arms limp, and constant pain erupting inside of his body, but out of all the pain came some pleasure that caused him to gasp. Steve wrapped his fingers around Michael's half hard dick and squeezed with a few good strokes. Michael's brows tightened and his eyes went closed, mouth half open. 

He was still struggling to breathe but with all of those sensations coming together as one, Michael didn't know exactly what the hell he was feeling but it was something he'd never felt before. “Fuck!” came flying out of Michael's mouth like a bullet, knocking Steve between the eyes. 

 

This fucking shit was never meant to happen but when two arrogant assholes get drunk together, shit just gets out of control. In all honesty, Michael would've came to like Steve Haines if he wasn't such a bastard who liked making others feel miserable and treat them like slaves and Steve would've enjoyed Michael De Santa's presence if he didn't talk so much fucking shit and act like he was above everyone, but here they were acting like horny fucking animals. Michael continued to try and get the other man off of him but his weight was too much for him to handle at the moment and the fingers well wrapped around his cock was sending shock waves throughout his entire body. He couldn't stop the gasps that slipped from his lips and he choked. 

 

Haines smiled in the darkness and pumped Michael faster and harder. His body wiggled around and his ears picked up on the sudden high pitch in De Santa's voice. Steve Haines had this man under his full control and he liked it more than he ever thought. 

 

Michael's weary eyes continued to open and close. His head was spinning and he reached forward into the dark and dug his fingers deep into the hard muscle of Steve's arms. He could use anything to hold onto. Michael was losing all ability to breathe and he was drifting in and out of consciousness but the closer he came to blacking out, the stronger the pleasure became in his lower gut. 

This feeling, all the damn pleasing sparklers going off inside his mind and soul wasn't like anything Michael had ever experienced before. One hand around Michael's slippery dick and the other around his windpipe, blocking off any kind of air flow, Steve could only hiss in pleasure, feeling his own cock jump at the wonderful image of Mr. De Santa exploding all over his fucking self locked inside his wicked thoughts. “Give in old man, come on,” Steve said softly, leaning forward to make sure Michael understood who was in charge, breathing heavy in his face, giving his wrists a few inexperienced twists. 

 

Michael couldn't handle it much more. His nails dug painfully into the material of the FIB agent's polo and his mouth hung open, and his back arched slightly; one more rough pump and Michael was done. A sudden warmth coated Michael's upper torso and Steve's hand. 

 

That man shot a massive load and it half disgusted Steve but he was more pleased with it than he was disgusted. “Nice fucking shot Michael, but now that that's out of the way, I think you need to wake up and give me a good rub down,” the man growled deep and shifted against Michael, releasing his aching grip from Michael's bruised throat, using both of his hands to reach for knees that were right before him and pulled them apart until he had enough room to do his dirty work.

Within minutes, the older man could breathe again, struggling a little bit but it was nice to know he could take in all the air he wanted. “Fuck off!!” Michael snapped back at the FIB agent and covered his face with his sweaty hands, feeling disgusted and ashamed for doing what he did. He had to be honest and it was painful to admit, but that was the best orgasm Michael has had in years.

 

There was a knot in his chest and his breathing was slightly painful but he was going to get over it. The hot air around them grew silent way too fast and that's when those same fingers wrapped painfully around Michael's throat, causing him to groan in pain.

 

“You started this fucking insanity and I'm going to get what I want, so I suggest you listen or I will decide to actually strangle the life out of you, got it amigo?” Steve spat right back and Michael mumbled something under his breath, feeling relieved that Steve let go. He didn't respond but a strong hand against his knee managed to cause a whimper to pass his mouth. “Good, so now that I got your attention, I want you to flip over on your stomach and don't be fucking slow about it!” the younger man demanded, his voice violent as ever, giving Michael's knees a shake. That demeanor of his was reminding Michael too much of Trevor but Trevor wouldn't be the one hurting him, so in a way, Steve Haines was more demented than that psychotic friend of his and he didn't like it.

“Fuck you, you fuckin' creep!” came flying out of Michael's chapped lips and another fist had met with the sensitive side of his head. It dazed him more than it did the first time and he was seeing stars, feeling rough hands man-handle him. 

Eventually, Steve managed to get the fatter man on his belly, with a slight struggle of course and a cut lip after being kicked in the face by that expensive dress shoe of De Santa's. Michael was still a tad confused and out of it, but he could tell by Steve's hands that he was getting ready for something serious. “Lay fucking still, damnit!” the blond man cried out and with a snap, removed his belt and hurried to grab both of Michael's arms. He bent them behind his back and used the leather belt to bind them tightly together. 

Michael was in pain, in a lot of fucking pain. His cheek was smashed into the hot leather seat which smelled like him; cologne and whiskey from all the constant drinking behind the wheel and his flaccid cock ached as it was being pushed hard into the seat. 

 

He wanted to kill this bastard. He truly wanted to. Michael closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to ignore the shooting pain in his arms and shoulders as well as the bruising around his throat. Steve was above him, sitting with his ass on top of Michael's calves, one hand jerking himself while the other reached for Michael's boxers, pulling them down until the delicate skin of his ass was met with the warm air. 

Steve Haines wasn't experienced in this kind of thing; anal was never his thing and neither were men. He closed his own eyes and took in a deep breath, careful not to make himself seem weak and with that free hand of his, he pressed it carefully against the surprisingly soft cheek of Michael's ass. He felt the body beneath him jump at the sudden contact but nothing more. Steve squeezed slightly, enjoying the way the warm flesh melted between his fingers like a woman's ass. Not a single hair was felt against Steve's curious palm.

 

Michael groaned loud against the seat and bucked his ass upward. He did it, hoping it would take the arrogant bastard by surprise but all it did was cause a lip biting slap across his cheeks and it was just enough to get another involuntary whimper out of Michael. 

The slap burned and Michael tightened his brows. “Get the fuck off of me you motherfucker!” he was pissed and Steve could tell but he continued to jack himself over the struggling body, debating wither he should continue to jerk himself off or use Michael's plush body for his aching needs.

 

.

 

Who knows what time it is by now. Michael didn't give a damn at the moment. His body burned from the inside out and he thought he was going to throw up at any second but he swallowed it down and continued to bite his lip, listening to the awful sounds that slipped from Steve Haines mouth. Michael breathed hard and buried his face literally into the seat. A stray tear surprised the hell out of him but the pain was fucking almost unbearable and he felt weak, he no longer felt like the man he was before.

 

Steve had clumsy hips and when Michael felt the hardness of his chest collide into his own back, fingers clawing at the hairy flesh of his thighs, he had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He shook his head a little and cursed below his breath. Michael's own body was going against his true feelings and he didn't exactly like it. His flaccid dick jerked back to life and it disgusted Michael; Steve didn't use much lubrication, just a tiny bit of spit and that was all. The more he pushed himself inside of the body beneath him, the more pain Michael had to go through. 

 

He didn't even know if the FIB fucker had a condom on or not. Eventually someone walking by was bound to take attention the rocking tailgater parked along the curb of the busiest street in LS but it was getting dark and the street lights were already turning off.

 

Michael just had no fucking idea he'd be in this kind of situation with a man like Steve Haines. Back in prison, he had a higher chance at getting butt-fucked so all of this shit was a total mess. “Oh this feels fucking amazing, shit Michael!” the blond man admitted with a surprised chuckle, raising his hands up from between their bodies and he squeezed Michael's waist. Michael let out a low growl and moved his head to the side, giving his lips room to move. 

“Don't say my fuckin' name!” Michael snapped and that's when Steve brought a hand up to the back of his head, ran his fingers through his feathery hair and pressed down hard. “Shut up and let me do my work,” the younger man hissed quietly and laid against Michael, enjoying the scent that came from his peppered hair and the smoothness of his cream skin. The pain persisted for a while longer until Steve had to adjust himself. Michael wasn't wet enough and it was beginning to annoy the hell out of the FIB agent. 

The feeling of being empty again made Michael sigh and go completely limp against the seats. He could hear the opposite man spit into his hand and curse at how disgusting it was just before rubbing it along his dick and he carefully entered Michael this time, which was strange but it didn't burn and tear as much the first time. Steve let out a low pathetic groan upon entering and so did Michael. He knew how badly he was tensing up and how hard he was trying to deny that disgusting dick, but some sick part of him was beginning to lighten up and just go along with it. The older man groaned and closed his eyes knowing that this was all forced upon him, his arms fucking bound behind him but he raised his hips and that offered Steve more room for a deeper penetration.

 

The man took it with a surprised 'Okay' and pulled hard on Michael's hair, snapping his head back and making his throat so damn vulnerable. The tearing was still painful and now so was the hair pulling but Michael liked it in a weird way. 

In the past, Michael and Amanda would do some crazy kinky shit in the bedroom. He always liked being the one tied down, enjoying the way his lovely wife would treat him like a damn dog. Michael had always been a sucker for the kinky side of intimacy ever since he was a teen. He never done anything like it until he met Amanda because he was afraid of what his past girlfriends would think of him, being the football quarterback.

 

But ever since being in Trevor's life, Michael's been more open, maybe not with himself but open with what he enjoys as a man and he unfortunately has that psycho to thank for that. Reality finally came back to him and he could feel the other man's dick fill him completely. Michael was new to anal and he still has no idea if he likes it or not. This though was fucking rape and the experience was awful. What was fucking strange to him is that he was groaning and whimpering like he was enjoying every second of it.

 

.

 

A loud ring woke him. His eyes opened and he groaned just as soon as they did. The damn morning sun shined through the windows and he realized just how stiff his body was when he tried to sit up right. He took a big breath and made a face. Smells of all kinds filled his senses and he could only groan at how disgusting it all was. His clothes were a mess and so were the seats in his car. 

Another loud ring and with a pair of sore eyes, Michael found his cell phone on the floor and picked it up. He cursed at the sudden wave of pain in the middle of his back as he came up to sit back against the seat. It was Franklin calling. Michael just looked at the name and the face of his good friend not bothering to answer and after it rang, a minute later he got another phone call. This time it was from Trevor. Only snippets of last night came back to him the moment that psycho called and random pains flooded his entire body.

 

He was confused enough as it is. Michael ended the call and swallowed only to find out that his throat was dry and it just plain hurt to swallow. After a few minutes of thinking to himself, Michael kind of brushed himself off, buttoned up his white undershirt, buckled his belt and played a little bit with his hair. His breath tasted terrible and he reached for the door to his right and once he opened it with a weak push, he nearly blinded himself. Michael groaned once the soles of his shoes hit the cement ground and he just sat there with the door open, leaned lazily into his lap, holding his head in the palms of his hands.

 

He felt like shit and he probably looked like it too. Another damn ring out from behind him and Michael grabbed his cell seeing Trevor all over his damn screen. “Fuck!” Michael let out a weak curse and swiped his thumb across the screen. He put the cell phone to his face and waited for the other man to say a few words.

 

“What's the deal Mikey, ignoring my calls, that's not very nice,” Trevor was the same old Trevor, that sarcasm high in his voice. Michael rolled his eyes and put a hand to his forehead, completely ignoring all of the people that walked by. “Not feelin' like myself and I got a fuckin' headache T,” Michael acknowledged the opposite man with a hard sigh and ran his free hand over his warm face, hoping that would get rid of all of his exhaustion and the pain in his temple. 

Trevor went silent. “Well whenever you decide to stop being a loooser, dial me up and I'll swing by with some booze or somethin', sooo...see ya!” Trevor hung up and Michael kept the phone pressed to his face for about a minute before snapping himself out of his daze and he finally stood up and jumped into the driver's seat, closing the door as carefully as he could. Aches and pains all over his body but he could handle it. Looking up to adjust his mirror, Michael took a minute to stare at his own reflection and he raised his chin a little to get a better look at the bruising he found around his throat. There was also a pretty dark bruise near his right cheek bone but he didn't want to think about that right now. He swallowed the knot in his throat and it burned. With a sigh, he started up the vehicle and gripped the wheel, directing the car carefully into traffic.

 

.

 

Michael returned home in a matter of seconds. He parked his Tailgater carelessly in front of the house and stepped out. Realizing that he was still all alone, that when he walks right through the front door, he was going to be sad, hurt and craving whiskey.

 

He entered the house, the big ass fucking empty house and headed straight for the kitchen to fetch his trusted bottle of whiskey over the counter. He wiped a hand over his face again and felt a cold sweat coming on. Michael leaned his body into the side of the counter and unscrewed the top of the bottle, pouring it carefully into his glass. He swallowed again and raised the glass to his lips and sighed pleasantly once the amber liquid passed his lips and soaked into the taste buds across his tongue. 

It burned slightly going down his sore throat but he was used to that. After downing one more glass, Michael removed his silver jacket and climbed the stairs with it slung over one shoulder. Random scenes from last night continued to come at him and they hit him in the most awful way. 

There was constant pain in his lower back and it got worse the lower he traveled with his fingers. The older man ducked his head again under the warm water and let it roll down his naked body in warm waves. This felt nice and he definitely needed it at the moment. During the shower, Michael found a few more bruises in certain spots but they were not so bad as the first two he found. He hurt but he had to deal with it just like all the other painful shit in his life. 

Michael jumped out of the shower, wrapped a cotton towel around his waist and laid his ass down across his bed. He missed Amanda and his kids. Michael wasn't a nice man, he wasn't a good father and he hated himself for all the bad he causes. He wanted to cry, damn he just wanted to cry like a fucking baby but he couldn't. He couldn't stand to see tears roll down his face or feel himself shake. He knew it was all bound to happen one day, Michael Townely was going to explode one fucking day and nothing good is going to come out of it. He missed Amanda and he missed being able to hold her face and kiss the hell out of her.

Almost every movement he made, shooting pain would go straight up his rectum and mess with his thoughts. Some part of him wanted to feel better, he just wanted to feel happy at least once in this new life he's created for himself. Laying on his side, Michael looked over at the open doorway and hoped she would walk right in and save him from the depression that was sneaking up on him way too quickly. Not like depression wasn't anything new, he was just tired of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be another update to this short story and I might possibly make a sequel to this but not sure yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Here's the final chapter and I didn't really like how it turned out but I know someone out there will...so enjoy!!

He must have been asleep for what seemed like an hour because the moment when he opened up his eyes, he was suddenly spooked by the familiar pair that stared back at him. Michael's entire body jerked and as soon as he was upright, his head was spinning and his surroundings were nothing but blurred colors. The familiar occupant beside the bed cocked his head, watching Michael fall backwards off of the bed and he let out a loud laugh after the loud thud on the opposite side of the bed.

 

“Morning sugartits,” the psychotic man greeted him with a wide grin and he jumped onto the bed, leaning forward to stare over the edge at Michael. The older man let out a groan and draped an arm across his face and the other around his mid section to hide himself. Michael felt bare, totally vulnerable and he obviously forgot all about the towel covering his waist. He slowly raised one knee and the pain came back. Trevor continued to stare and he dropped one hand over Michael's knee, startling him in the process. 

“Not that I'm complaining but I can see your naughty bits Mikey and well it's kind of messing with my noggin,” Trevor explained fully and honestly, not even trying to hide the fact that Michael was turning him on. The fingers holding onto Michael's knee became painfully tight and several more scenes came to him in another massive wave. He tightened his jaw and moved his arm from his face, staring up at Trevor with a dumbfounded look. Those eyes of his had a slight shade of pink around the irises and there was a pounding against his temple that just wouldn't go away. 

 

Michael heard the other man's words, but they went in one ear and right out the other and he shifted his body against the floor, raising his other knee. “Why are you here?” Michael mumbled and met Trevor's golden brown eyes peeking over the bed at him. 

 

The opposite man made a weird face and brought an arm up over the bed and dangled it in Michael's direction, fingers reaching for the towel. “You didn't call me back so I decided to invite myself over, now how 'bout you close those legs,” the hand on Michael's knee patted the skin there and he did what he was told because he knew just how perverse Trevor can be. Trevor's fingers latched onto the bottom of the white towel and snagged slightly to alarm Michael. 

 

“Come on drunkie, get up, up!” Trevor's voice was gravely and yet dangerously cheerful and he snapped his fingers, helping himself off the bed with a little bounce just before making his way over to Michael who was still laying heavy as a cinder block on the floor. The fatter man attempted to sit himself up but he fell back down, waiting for Trevor to lift him up. “My fuckin' body hurts man so would you mind being careful with me,” Michael informed Trevor just before he was grabbed roughly by the arm. The moment he was pulled to his feet, Michael grabbed on to his towel and tightened it around himself, staring down at the floor.

Trevor's eyes were fucking glued onto Michael and when he found out that he was being stared down, Michael gave the Canadian man a weird look. He should have known that Trevor was staring at his bruises and especially the one around his neck but when Trevor's lips began to move, Michael was taken back by the seriousness and violence in his voice.

“What the fuck, Michael, who the hell choked you?” Trevor continued to speak out loud, lightly grabbing Michael by the jaw and lifted his chin up to get a better look. The ex-bank robber sneered at the unwanted contact but he let it happen. “Whoever it was definitely enjoyed strangling the hell outta' you sugar,” Trevor stated, still being his typical asshole self, turning his head carefully to the side. Michael growled and moved himself out of the Canadian's grip, obviously irritated. 

“I need a damn beer,” Michael admitted with a sigh and ran a hand over his face, leaving the bedroom. Trevor followed in suit and the two ended up in the kitchen, drinking the pisswasser that Trevor brought over. The same fucking body aches and muscle spasms continued to ripple through Michael's being and the way he started to walk had Trevor questioning what even happened to him. 

Trevor leaned his slim body against the island and knocked the bottle tab off on the corner and raised it to his lips. Michael did the same but somehow he struggled to get the tab off and he was about to throw a god damn fit until Trevor took it from his hand and knocked the tab off for him. “Tell me 'bout those bruises and don't you even try to fucking lie 'bout anything!” Trevor was angry and he was serious, taking another sip from his bottle, glaring at the man across from him. 

 

Michael stopped himself from taking the first drink from his pisswasser and thought for a moment before saying a word. He leaned back into the counter, crossing one ankle around the other. Trevor put both of his elbows on top of the island and played with his bottle, swirling the golden liquid, waiting patiently for Michael to break the silence. Michael could remember last night but much of it was nothing but a blur. That FIB prick Steve Haines was all over in his damn mind and he recalled something that was just plain twisted. Michael knew what sort of went on last night but all he currently knew, he didn't really want to tell Trevor.

 

Michael directed his eyes down and he finally took a drink from his bottle. Trevor let out an obnoxious sigh, getting Michael's attention. “Are you going to talk or what, I asked you a question that needs some damn good answers bud?” the taller man snuck around the island up to Michael, leaning back into it and he watched Michael's expression change almost drastically. 

The fatter man sighed and scratched his left arm. He was nervous and Trevor could definitely see that. “Fuck this Trevor, I don't have to explain myself to you!” the older man growled and that sent a surprising chill down Trevor's spine. Maybe Michael was right, but Trevor wanted to know; someone obviously wanted him dead or was just having a good time with him. Trevor could sense that there was something keeping Michael from telling him anything. 

 

Trevor finished off his bottle and slammed it down hard onto the island, nibbling anxiously on his bottom lip, arms crossed. “Who was it Michael, just tell me the name and that will be the end of it, promise!” the Canadian asked, raising one hand to prove that he meant it and the tone in his voice was soft. 

Being calm and collected about it was going to get Michael to speak, possibly. Trevor searched his friend's face and waited quietly for an answer. “Steve Haines, are you fuckin' happy now?” Michael blurted aloud and it caused Trevor's face to tighten. That damn name hit him hard and now knowing that he was the one behind Michael's bruises, the anger inside him was about to blow.

Michael put the bottle to his mouth and drank until it was empty. He was a nervous wreck at the moment and Trevor felt the tension in the air. He promised he would end it at that but he was pissed and there was no changing that until someone gets hurt. “Let's pay that prick a surprised visit, I just wanna' take a damn flamethrower to that pretty face of his!!” Trevor spit violently and when he gripped onto the edge of the island, Michael knew he was pissed. The way he brought his body close to the island and how deeply he growled could frighten anyone who was sane. 

 

Michael took one step forward and put his hand over Trevor's tense shoulder. “It's all done and over with T, and I'm fine,” the shorter man was doing his best to be careful with his choice of words and the warmth of Trevor's skin could leave a mark. Michael wanted to knock a few teeth out of that blond bastard's mouth but it was over and never going to happen again. If Steve knew what was good for him, he'd stay away knowing what Trevor was capable of. 

 

.

 

Trevor eventually cooled down and downed one more beer. They both headed into the family room and sat down on the couch. Michael managed to relax a bit while Trevor was still tense as fuck and began to tap his boot on the floor. Michael breathed in and exhaled, turning on the TV, melting deeper into the comfortable cushions. Michael tried not to worry about Trevor at the moment but his constant tapping and growling was causing the other man great pain in his already damaged temple. 

 

“I can order a pizza or something T,” Michael broke the painful silence with a voice that was soft and carefree, turning to look in Trevor's direction, laying both of his hands over his thighs. An answer was all that he was waiting for not a curse and a fucking growl. “I don't want a damn pizza Mikey, what I want is to slice that fucker's throat, lop of his dick and shove it down his cock sucking throat!!” there was a shit load of intensity in those golden brown eyes of his and the left over space between them gave Michael shaky hands. Trevor pounced on Michael within seconds and he didn't even notice until he was being literally spit at. 

Trevor's knuckles went white as the cushions beneath his fingers and his jaw tightened. If Michael wasn't here to stop Trevor from being a psychotic bastard, Steve Haines would be a fucking dead man. “I'm ordering a pizza!” Michael announced loud and jumped up from his spot on the couch, with his cell phone in hand. Trevor immediately latched onto De Santa's towel and with one little tug, it fell fast from his waist. 

Michael was too slow to get out of Trevor's deadly path and instead of picking up the towel, he cupped himself, his face turning a light shade of red. Trevor slowly moved back into the cushions with a sudden grin across his lips and leaned forward into his lap in a lazy attempt to hide the bulge crushed in the front of his jeans.

“Can't order that damn pizza now, sugartits,” Trevor smiled devilishly and pointed to the cell phone that was now on the floor. Damn this room was getting almost unbearably hot. Michael looked down for a split second at it and then back into Trevor's direction. “Fuck you!” Michael groaned and turned around but as soon as he did, he just fucking forgot that Trevor was staring at him like some ravenous animal and his bare ass was out there for that nasty bastard to latch on to. 

 

Another bruise caught Trevor's attention and he stood up, pulling at his jeans. “Turn around,” Trevor demanded and his tone startled the hell out of Michael. The green eyed man tightened his brows and looked up at his friend once he was close enough. They both gave each other a nasty stare but Trevor forced him to turn anyway. His calloused hands were hot against Michael's shoulders and pinched slightly. It didn't take Trevor long to examine the man's back and notice the flaw. The creamy skin of Michael's has been beat and the sight of those bruises pissed Trevor off beyond belief. 

 

Trevor Philips hands were the only god damn pair of hands that were meant to touch Michael's flawless skin, but seeing the nasty damage made him fucking crazy. “What did that asshole do to ya!” the younger man's breath was hot against the back of Michael's neck and his words sent a random shiver up his very spine. The man he betrayed over and over gave a shit about him. 

He knew he shouldn't feel completely safe around Trevor but part of him did feel that sense of comfort and safety that he thought he would never feel again. Michael was scared to admit to Trevor the truth but the man was too damn close.   
Michael swallowed and stared down into the expensive red wine stained carpet, leaning into the gentle touch of Trevor. “I don't...don't remember T,” Michael finally knew what it was he was trying like hell to keep from Trevor and the thought of it made him tremble and the inside of his stomach turned. Strong clammy hands left Michael's shoulders and flattened over his shoulder blades, slowly making their way down to the middle of the shorter man's back and further. 

“Does this jog your memory?” Trevor asked and put slight pressure on the biggest bruise across Michael's lower back and a rush of sharp pain nearly knocked the wind out of him. He jumped at the pain and mumbled something under his breath. 

It didn't do a damn thing but the further those sneaky hands of Trevor's got, the more the sharp pain shot up his rectum and that made him curse like a sailor. Trevor stopped his hands over Michael's hips, squeezed a little and rested his chin against his shoulder, carefully smoothing his palms over M's soft ass cheeks. “Did that bastard touch you...in your privates?” Trevor said teasingly, breathing his warm soft breath into Michael's ear, lightly squeezing the cheeks that were beneath his eager hands. 

Michael groaned and closed his eyes. The touch of Trevor's hands brought back intimate scenes from last night and also memories from the past. He swallowed the knot in his throat and tried to wiggle free from Trevor but his fingers locked on to his hips and he pulled Michael flush against him. 

“Stop T,” the older man said in a quiet voice but Trevor heard him. The crazy man listened without being told twice and it gave Michael so much damn relief. The Canadian remained flush against Michael placing a delicate kiss on his pulse point in his neck. “I want to kill him Mikey, I really wanna murder the fuck out of that piece of shit!” there was the anger and the slight jealousy coming out and Michael couldn't stop the smile from appearing on his lips. Soon, Michael slipped away and picked up the towel, wrapping it around himself, leaving the room.

 

.

 

Trevor followed Michael up the stairs like a lost puppy, hell he'd even follow him into the fucking pits of hell, it didn't fucking matter. They entered his bedroom and Michael went straight for his nightstand, pulling out a pack of cigarillos, sliding one between his lips. 

He went into the closet for something to put on his naked ass while Trevor stood near the doorway, listening the his best friend rummage through his many drawers in that walk-in closet Amanda just had to have. “Tell me Mikey, did that cock sucker do anything...you know,” Trevor paused, arms crossed hoping that Michael could hear him and understand what he was getting at. 

The older man reappeared from that damn closet and eyed Trevor questionably with that unlit cigarillo hanging from his lip. “Stop with all the damn idiotic questions T,” Michael grumbled and went back into the closet for a blue polo and a pair of casual jeans. That man got dressed in ten fucking seconds and when he came back out, Trevor could only snicker at how amazing he looked and Michael Townely looked good in everything. Trevor moved further into the room, digging both of his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, constantly staring at the green eyed man.

 

“Shut the fuck up Townely and tell me, I know something else went on, your fucking body tells me everything, now tell me okay?” Trevor said as calmly as a man like him could and went right up to Michael, trying to meet his wandering eyes. 

It took a while for Michael to even part his lips. He removed the cigarillo and tossed it on the messy bed. “I don't know T okay, I don't fuckin' know...” he sounded very guarded and nervous and it showed. Trevor removed his hands from his pockets and dropped them at his sides. He was becoming dangerously irritated with Michael; the man was just so damn stubborn. “I don't want to have to force fucking words outta' you but that seems like my only option at the moment,” Trevor explained carefully, taking a few steps closer. Michael scratched his arm again and Trevor put a hand to his cheek, tangling his fingers in that peppered hair of his. 

That action was totally random and surprising. Trevor's skin reeked of gasoline. It almost burned Michael's nose but that wasn't what was on his mind. The psychotic man he came to truly look up to and see as more than just a friend cared about him. 

Michael knew that Trevor had powerful feelings for him but he just never really cared up until now; for what seemed like the first time, he actually felt something for the filthy man before him. “Why...why do you care so much?” Michael's words came out slow and quiet and the two men met eye contact and it was very strong. Trevor's hand never left his face and he rolled small circles in M's cheek. 

Trevor didn't reply to such fucked up words. Instead of talking, Trevor pulled Michael closer and their lips met perfectly. Michael was startled out of his mind but he took it as is and participated in the tender moment. The kiss became something deeper and eventually Trevor was holding Michael's face close, smothering him in rough, overly wet kisses. Michael searched for something to hold onto and he found Trevor's hips. The contact was strange but nothing new. T moved away from M's mouth down to his bruised throat, nibbling gently at his Adam's apple. The older man wasn't new to this kind of thing but Trevor has been the only man he's ever done anything like this with.

 

“Even if that motherfucker fucked you, I'll always be the first and only man that will treat you right,” Trevor nearly growled it out, declaring the strong hold Michael had on him, but he enjoyed it as much as he fucking hated it. Sometimes he hated that he wanted Michael but most times, he loved that he was even in the asshole's life. 

 

Trevor growled like some kind of animal and pulled Michael into him by the collar of his polo, crushing the two of them painfully together as one. Michael let out a wicked groan against Trevor's lips and didn't realize until a second after that he was on the bed with Trevor hovered above him, hands on either side of his head. Michael parted his lips and let his tongue invade the other man's mouth and soon they were both kissing like slobbery children, their heart beats very strong. 

Michael grabbed onto Trevor's forearms and squeezed. He fled from Trevor's mouth and stared up at him totally longingly. “I need you more than you need me...I messed up both of our lives and I made you fuckin' hurt and now because of me, your a fuckin' meth addict, I hurt Amanda and I...I--” Trevor cut Michael short and by the crack in his voice, Trevor could tell it was quite a struggle to even admit such things to him. He had to give the pathetic man credit for that. “I made my own fucking choices Michael but I did suffer when you left, so don't go blaming yourself, now enough of this fucking sappy shit,” Trevor growled and brushed his fingers through Michael's soft hair and leaned forward to kiss him again. 

 

It was painful and their teeth collided but Michael managed to get through it, holding on to Trevor's inked arms. The further they got into this mess, the further Trevor went down and he trailed his hands up Michael's shirt, grabbing at his soft spots being gentle as possible. He could already see M's arousal tenting in the front of his jeans and it made him smile but once he was close enough to his waist, Trevor was suddenly stopped. 

 

He looked up at Michael and made a face. “What is it now?” he asked with a sigh falling from his lips. Michael maneuvered himself out from underneath Trevor somehow and got on his knees. Trevor narrowed his eyes at his friend but he wasn't going to question him. He also got to his knees but as soon as he was, Trevor was pushed right back down onto his back, head almost hanging off the foot of the bed, legs spread wide. Michael unbuttoned his jeans and swiftly moved himself between Trevor's legs, hands on both sides of his waist. 

Trevor sucked in his bottom lip and his heart raced, fingers digging into the sheets. He knew what Michael was getting at and Trevor was definitely going to accept his offer but it was strange. Michael wasn't a cock sucker but whenever he did, it felt so good. 

 

“You up for this Mikey?” Trevor asked curiously, hoisting himself up on his forearms, looking down at the handsome man between his shaking legs, picking at the nasty scabs across his arms. Michael knew what he was getting himself into but he didn't need words to tell Trevor that. He nodded his head slowly and splayed his fingers across Trevor's clothed thighs, using those fingers to pull on the thick material of his jeans. Slowly, Trevor's hips came into view and so did those awful briefs of his. 

Michael swallowed nervously but continued to go through with it. He wanted to be the one to please Trevor this time, the man definitely needed and deserved it. Michael looked down at Trevor's dick and finally removed those jeans and the briefs. That left the lanky man completely naked and vulnerable under Michael's deadly touch. 

Trevor's eyes were on Michael, hands ready to grab onto his soft head. He licked his lips and chuckled. “Take me however your fuckin' heart desires, sunshine!” Trevor urged him on, laying back down, awaiting Michael's warm pair of lips. “Fuckin' a I will,” Michael cooed dangerously and wrapped careful fingers around Trevor's warm shaft, bringing his face in close enough to take in the wonderful scent of his friend. It's been years since they were in this position and it felt kind of right.

Trevor sucked in his bottom lip and gave his hips a little buck. “Your fucking breath is driving me insane!” the crazy man cried out and that's when Michael sunk himself onto Trevor's hard dick, trying his hardest to take all of him in one go. He succeeded at doing so and Trevor let out a whimper in response. A hand found the back of Michael's head and soon he was moving so perfectly, his tongue twisting around the head and pressing down hard against the underside, causing him to get hit in the face with powerful hips. Michael groaned around his dick and the vibration was sensational; he held Trevor's hips down with two strong hands and continued to take him. 

 

Trevor cooed and cried out like a woman, sometimes arching his back, sometimes breaking Michael's hold and painfully fucking his face. Honestly, Michael wasn't wonderful at giving head but he'd choose Michael's mouth over a prostitute's any day. The man knew what he was doing and he gave it his all and that's all that mattered to Trevor. 

“Ohh man...fuck Mikey,” Trevor groaned breathlessly, fingers digging painfully through Michael's soft peppered hair. His jagged nails met with the delicate scalp but no pain was inflicted upon Michael. Trevor's taste was different from what he remembered but he dealt with it and Michael was shamelessly bucking his hips against the bed. The friction was powerful and if he kept going at that pace, he too was going to lose it. The rough pulls and scrapes along his scalp only made Michael excited and it urged him to continue. 

“Uh, oh shit that's so...fuck!” Trevor growled like a wild animal and used his free hand to push Michael's hands from his own hips. Trevor liked it rough and he wanted to be able to freely fuck his best friend's face whenever he wanted. Sweat began to cover Trevor's flesh and Michael could feel it along his hairy thighs when he rolled one hand downward. 

.

Michael touched, caressed and stroked almost every inch of Trevor's body and that was all he needed to get off. With a few more bucks and curses, Trevor emptied himself inside the warm mouth of his handsome friend, using his hands to remove most of the sweat that rolled down his face. He freely humped Michael's mouth a couple more times before Michael sat upright again and wiped his mouth. When Trevor leaned onto his forearms and was able to look at Michael clearly, he smiled at the sight. That man swallowed all of the bitter fluid that filled his mouth to the point of spilling out. 

Trevor cringed at the thought but he loved Michael even more for doing so. “Get your ass over here and kiss me,” Trevor demanded and Michael silently obeyed, climbing sluggishly up Trevor's body, fingers tangling in all the course chest hair and he wrapped his legs around the thin waist beneath him, finally giving Trevor another dangerous kiss. 

As it broke, they both stared at one another. Trevor raised one hand and grabbed the back of Michael's neck, thumb rubbing his soft skin. Michael let out a stupid giggle and cupped Trevor's face in his own hands. They each shared a few laughs before smashing their mouths together again, losing themselves in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~I might possibly make a sequel to this and there will be more Steve Haines if I do. I hope it was good and you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> ~Well, I hope I didn't scare anyone away...I will be making another update, so if you found this interesting continue reading, if not that's okay!


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